How Memories Make Us

Charisse Tierney reflects on the power of memories and how they can shape us into people worthy of heaven.

Things of the past  

My summers aren’t the same anymore. Sleeping a bit later and waking up to that blissful feeling of the under-scheduled, slow-moving day that lies ahead is a thing of the past. Spending the morning watching a curious toddler crouching over a trail of ants by the pool while her siblings swim is no more. Snoozing away the afternoon while my little ones do the same in the cool air of our home is a distant memory.  

The memories come back in floods sometimes. Lying in bed with a newborn long after the sun has come up. The peacefulness of my house after I finally got my toddler down for a nap. Hauling beach towels, water bottles, and an infant while three or four sunscreen lathered children happily trail behind me on our way to the pool.  

Watching fireworks from the front yard of my childhood home while playing tag with neighbor friends and eating yet another star-shaped sugar cookie. 

Things of the present  

It seems that the pace of my life has escalated at the same rate that my children have grown. Naptimes have been replaced with teenagers needing to get places and lively children needing guidance through their chores.  

My handicapped sister who recently moved in with us attends a wonderful day program five days a week. We are so grateful for the services she receives, but her daily bus ride (and internal alarm clock) means I have to be disciplined in my waking schedule year-round.  

This was most likely our last Fourth of July celebration at my childhood home: we’re prepare to move my aging parents into an assisted living facility soon.  

Some memories seemed so hard in the moment. Perhaps some are remembered more fondly than they were actually experienced.  

And yet, they seem so priceless, those memories of the “good ol’ days.” Sometimes I slip into wanting just a little more time to spend in them. One more lazy morning, one more afternoon by the pool with no specific time that we have to go back home, one more Fourth of July at my parents’ house. 

Things of the future  

But memories are not objects I can place on a shelf. Memories are ever-changing in their purpose for my life. My memories, and the events that created them, are what made me into the person I am today. I can’t live in the past, yet my past can’t help but shape my future. My perspective of a memory shifts as I gain more experience and continue to move along my life’s path.  

I do something with one of my kids, and I remember something my mom did in my childhood —and my heart grows in understanding. I help my handicapped sister and remember how my parents responded to her — and my heart grows in compassion. I guide one of my teenagers through a challenge and remember how my home environment affected me as a teen — and my heart grows in wisdom. I prepare for the next holiday in our home and remember the traditions I grew up with — and my heart grows in love.  

My memories can lure me into the past or propel me into the future. I can feel weighed down by them or I can learn from them. It’s my choice to make.   

My memories are a part of who I am and a part of who I will be.   

I can embrace the present with all of its challenges, all of its changes, all of its joys, and all of its sorrows as memories in the making — memories that will, I hope, help me to grow into a being who is ever more worthy of heaven.  

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Copyright 2024 Charisse Tierney
Images: copyright 2024 Charisse Tierney, all rights reserved.